


Symphony in Hotch Major

by Angst_BuriTTo



Series: The Reaper of the Opera [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Accents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Dreams and Nightmares, Episode: s05e01 Nameless Faceless, Families of Choice, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mind Games, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Team as Family, Whump, no actual non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angst_BuriTTo/pseuds/Angst_BuriTTo
Summary: He hadn't expected to wake up after Foyet's attack. Let alone what he learned after.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team
Series: The Reaper of the Opera [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616791
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	Symphony in Hotch Major

* * *

When he woke up at the hospital, mind fuzzy with painkillers but still in a fair amount of pain, he had been more then a little surprised; he had not expected to survive Foyet’s attack, let alone learn that _Foyet_ had been the one to drop him off. 

He was a profiler; he knew that Foyet wanted to make Hotch feel like the killer had control over his continued survival, and he knew that it was a tactic that he was trained and taught to ignore. He knew it, yet he couldn’t’t help the oppressive feeling of The Reaper’s choice to not only let him live, but to make sure that he would survive without a doubt. From what the nurse had told Hotch, Foyet had done more then _just_ dump him in front of the ER. 

* * *

  
** _10 hours earlier_ **

_Nurse Caleb Landon jolted into a standing position when the doors to the emergency room crashed open; a grey-haired white male covered in blood, carrying a limp, sloppily bandaged and even more bloody bundle in his arms, ran into the emergency room, looking panicked and shouting._

_“Help, somebody, please! Oh, God, please!”_

_Rushing along with three of his co-workers towards the man, Caleb let the three others take the bundle from the older man while Celeb led the man toward the intake desk to get some info from him. The older man seemed reluctant to lose his hold on the bloody bundle, but eventually let go and watched with wide eyes as they took him to the trauma room._

_“Sir?” Caleb said softly, gently resting a hand on the man’s arm. The guy stiffened, something flashing in his eyes that made the hairs on the back of Caleb’s neck stand at attention and he took a small step back- but it was gone so fast that Caleb thought he might have imagined it; long shifts in the night wearing on him. “Sir I’m going to have to ask for some ID and any information you can give us on the patient.”_

_The man took a breath, nodding, before reaching into his pocket and taking out a leather folder that he flipped open to show an FBI ID; Morgan, Derek._

_Caleb couldn’t help but think that the name didn’t suit the grey-haired man at all._

_“Ok Agent...Morgan, can you tell me anything about the man you brought in? Do you know him?”_

_“No, no,” Agent Morgan shook his head, “I just found him like that, tossed in an ally like garbage, I’m thinking it might have been a mugging gone wrong, he didn’t have any wallet or ID with him. I’m sorry, I can’t help you with him. I already tried to staunch the bleeding and I wrapped up what I could. I already gave my statement to the local police; My Boss needs me back; we’re working on a case at the moment, and I really need to-”_

_“Thank you, Agent Morgan, you can go.” Caleb watched the man rush out of the doors, and it was only minuted later that he remembered that the Agent had been very careful at concealing the picture on the FBI badge_.

* * *

**_ Now _ **

_9 times_.

That was how many times Foyet had stabbed Aaron, and he remembered every. Single. Moment.

“What do you remember?” Hotch looked into Prentiss’ dark eyes, knowing what answer she sought professionally, while also knowing what she wanted to hear as a friend. 

A part of him, the part of him that was still his father’s son, shouted at him that admitting his weakness to a subordinate was a fools idea, that he had to stay strong and not show and cracks, lest someone exploit him for it. 

The part of him that was SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU, coldly told him something similar, even if it was delivered in a more logical and less emotional way.

But the part of him that was Aaron, or Hotch, the part of him that knows what happens to victims that don’t get help, and how it usually ended, told him that the smartest thing to do was to trust in his team, in his friends. His family. It told him that if he wanted to survive this not only physically, but mentally and emotionally, he couldn’t just pretend nothing happened and bottle up everything until he exploded, taking everyone else with him. 

  
In another world, he might have pulled up his usual hard, blank mask, and told Prentiss that he didn’t remember anything, maybe told her it was all a blank, or a blur. He might have pretended he was completely fine and focused on the case.

But this wasn’t that world. 

“... _Everything_.” The words came from his lips in a hitched sob, and he felt the wetness prickling at his eyes, and for once in his life, Aaron Hotchner let himself cry in front of a friend.

He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed when the tears ran hot trails down his cheeks, right in front of his subordinate, but that was quickly dashed away in way of comfort when Emily leaned forward and drew him into a carful, gentle hug, one of her hands stroking his left arm, carful to avoid the bandages.

She hummed, some sort of tune that he couldn’t recognize, but it slowly calmed him down, his hitched sobs turning into sniffles until even they dropped off. 

Pulling back, Aaron flushed to the tips of his ears when he noticed most of his team standing at the door, watching with solemn looks and damp eyes. 

Taking a breath, Hotch murmured; “What did he leave?”

“My badge,” Morgan shook his head, and Hotch new that the younger man was furious that Foyet had used his own badge in Hotch’s attack. 

Hotch nodded, clearing his dry throat. 

“What _else_ did he leave?” His team looked at each other in confusion, and Hotch grit his teeth as he felt the pain returning. 

“Where are my clothes?”

When Emily handed the bloody clothing to him, Hotch immediately retrieved his badge from his pocket; opening it, a piece of paper fluttered out.

With stiff fingers, he opened the note and read out loud;

“ _See you and the Hotchner fam in another ten years, Aaron <3 PS. I taped our time together, that should be more then enough to get me through the long cold nights. **PPS. Don’t bother looking, Lover, you’ll never find me. In other words, don’t call me, I’ll call you, stud**. **xoxoxo** , George Foyet_”

The team looked sickened by the words written on the paper, but Aaron couldn’t help but feel both nauseated and relieved at the same time. He felt sick at the killers flirting and evidence that he had taped the whole attack, but also relieved that for some reason, his fear of Foyet going after his family and friends in revenge didn’t seem to be rooted in reality.

“We’ll never find him,” Prentiss whispered, loud in the suddenly solemn room. “Not until...”

“Ten years,” Hotch tightened his hand on the paper, the words distorting slightly at the wrinkles caused by the action. “We won’t find him until then, and by then...” Hotch closed his eyes, thumping his head back. “The brass won’t let us work on a case that long. They’ll label it a Cold Case.”

Morgan swore, making a motion to punch the wall before stopping himself inches from the wall, huffing out an angered breath, dropping his clenched fist, knuckles pale with how hard he was clenching it. 

Suddenly, Hotch noticed something different about his team, one member was missing; cursing the drugs and the trauma for making him fuzzy and overlook a missing member off his team, he looked at Rossi. 

“Where’s Reid?” 

The team immediately straightened up, looking guilty. 

“Reid got shot-”

“ _ **What**_?!” Hotch barked, eyes going wide. He felt his heart pumping harder in his chest; had Foyet gone after their youngest member while Hotch had been laying in a hospital bed, unconscious and weak? Had Foyet killed-

The rapid beeping of the heart monitor alerted one of the nurses, and she bustled into the room, glaring at the assembled team with sharp eyes, clearly having been in this job long enough that she wasn’t intimidated by the usually intimidating team of profilers. 

“Mr. Hotchner doesn’t need this kinda’ stress right now,” She scowled at them, using a sharp eye on the team, who looked contrite. “If y’all agitate my patient I’m gonna’ hafta’ kick ya’ll outta the room on y’all li’l FBI behinds, understand me?” 

“Yes, Ma’m,” Morgan and Rossi nodded, bowing their heads at the middle-aged nurse, and JJ and Prentiss nodded. 

“Good, now, Mr. Hotchner, you really should be restin’, but my husband works as a lawyer and I know the type when I see it; he had hip replacement surgery last year and I found him readin’ files and video callin’ clients from his hospital bed when he wasn’t drugged outta’ his stubborn skull- I know a man dedicated to his job when I see em’,” She narrowed her eyes at him, and raised a finger at him, and Hotch held back a hysterical chuckle when she wagged it at him - the last time someone had wagged their finger at him like that, it had been his grandmother when he had been caught playing in her petunia garden. 

“But I’ll tell ya’ll what I told my husband - I don’t give a damn what important job ya’ll do, if ya’ll can’t help yourself, how can y’all help your clients? Ya’ll cant do much if you’re dead, and it’s my job to keep that from happenin’ - and I take it _very_ seriously.” 

And with that, she left, leaving the tough group of FBI profilers cowering in her wake. 

Taking only a few moments to wait until he was sure the nurse was gone, Hotch turned back to his team and mustered the sternest face he could. 

“What happened to Reid?”

They told him in fits and starts about the case they had been doing - and Hotch made a note to tear into Strauss about sending his team on a case not even a day after they had returned from what was arguably one of the worst cases they had ever taken - and how Emily and Reid had both figured something was wrong with Hotch and had decided one of them had to check on him, and they had split up - and what was with Reid getting hurt every time he split up? Hotch despaired that he would have to refuse top let Reid split up in the future - and Emily had gone to the apartment to find the mess Foyet had left behind. Reid had stayed with the doctor and had ended up figuring out that the Unsub was after him instead of his son, and had gotten shot jumping in the path of the bullet that the Unsub had shot at the man he had been protecting. 

“-he’s going to have a brace and a ton of physical therapy for the next 5-7 months, but he’ll recover just fine.” JJ concluded, and Hotch let out a relived sigh, closing his eyes and releasing the tension that appeared when he heard the words “ _Reid got shot_ ” coming from Morgans mouth. 

“He’s out of surgery and in recovery, he’s just sedated right now from the surgery and should wake up sometime tomorrow morning.” 

“Thank you,” Hotch sighed, and Morgan nodded. 

“What are we gonna do about Foyet, Hotch?” Morgan shook his head, “We can’t just _let_ him-”

“There’s nothing we can do, Morgan,” Hotch shook his head, “Not only would we be taken off the case due to the fact that my attack makes it too personal to everyone on this team, we would never find him. The Reaper wanted to be found once Shaunassy died- the only reason we found him this time is because he knew that once the Detective died he’d tell us about the deal, and we would want to find the one living victim, and he wanted to start his game all over again. He left a deliberate trail, Morgan. The only reason the team found out about him and where he was is because he wanted us too.”

Hotch shook his head and closed his eyes.

“We can’t do anything.”

* * *

  
Hotch had tried to stay up just in case there was anymore news about the teams youngest, but the combination of stress-induced exhaustion, drugs, and just plain tiredness had him passing out not long after the conversation with his team. 

In his dreams, though, he wasn’t alone. 

* * *

_“Relax, Aaron, it goes in easier that way...like a knife through butter. Hmm, that’s it, good boy...” Hotch felt the knife as it parted flesh, muscle, fat and veins, as promised, like a butter knife through the Becel butter that lay in his fridge only eleven feet away from him._

_But that didn’t stop the pain._

_Foyet suddenly jerked the knife down, tearing skin and exposing stark white bone - his ribs, he noted numbly - to the air. Foyet chuckled in delight, his free hand reaching up to tap a finger on one of the bones._

_It was a strange feeling , having someone touch such an intimate part of you._

_Hotch watched in numb horror as Foyet tapped out a tune on his ribs._

_Then Foyet began to **sing**._

“ _ **Come on, baby, don’t fear the Reaper...We can be like they are...Don’t fear the Reaper...Baby take my hand...Don’t fear the Reaper...We’ll be able to fly...Baby I’m your man...Don’t fear the Reaper...**_ ”

_Hotch watched as Foyet used his knife to play his ribs like a drum, the rusty smell of his blood and the warmth of his blood seeping down his sides in an impossible amount._

* * *

  
Hotch woke up screaming and thrashing, only to be sedated into a deep, blissfully dreamless sleep seconds later. 

* * *

He woke up to feel fresh bandages and stitches and staples on his wounds, the soreness dulled by drugs and his vision just that side of fuzzy. 

“Welcome back, sir.” 

Hotch turned his head to see the bright, yet subdued form of Garcia, looking at him with worry and sadness. 

“What happened?” Hotch groaned, pressing the button to tilt the bed so he was sitting up, but not too much so he didn’t pull at his sutures and staples. Again. 

“You had a nightmare and ripped out a lot of your stitches and staples, they had to put you back in surgery, sir, and can I say that while I’m very glad you’re awake, please don’t scare me like that again because you’re like my dad and I don’t want to lose you and this team just couldn’t work without you, you’re like everyone’s dad, well except Rossi because he’s like your dad but a better one then- _ohmygodwhyhaven’tyoustoppedmetalkingi’llshutupnow_.”

Hotch couldn’t help the hoarse, fond chuckle that left his lips at Garcia’s babbling, and red face.   
  


The tech analyist lit up at the sound, her brought smile lighting up the dismal room, and Hotch grunted as the woman impulsively leaned forward and gave him a hug as gentle as she could, but it still hurt a bit. 

“I’m so sorry sir, but you are alive and I’m so happy that my family is all among the living even though we’re all a bit battered.” 

“It’s fine, Penelope,” Hotch smiled gently at her, making sure she knew he wasn’t upset at her. “I understand; I’m glad too. Is there any news on Reid?” 

Garcia smiled, nodding her head. “Yep!” She popped, a sparkle in her eye, “He’s already gone through one doctor when Reid couldn’t stop spouting out medical facts whenever he tried to speak to him. The new one, she found out that giving Spence coffee-flavoured throat lozenges shut him up pretty quickly.” 

“I’m guessing you might have hinted that to her,” Hotch tried to look stern, but the twitching at the side of his mouth gave him away. 

“I would never,” Garcia sniffed, trying to look offended, but failing. 

“Where is everyone, anyways?” Hotch wondered, refusing to admit he felt a pang of unease at being away from the rest of the team, with only Garcia to prote- keep him company. 

“They’re trying to convince junior G-man’s doctor that he should be put in the bed next to you, so we’re all together.” Garcia giggled. “Last I saw, our Italian Stallion was turning on the charm to try and convince her.”

“Of course he is,” Hotch huffed, amused. Dave used that skill more then once to get what he wanted - the older man wasn’t the reason for the creation of the fraternization rule rumour for no reason, after all. 

“And it worked, too, Aaron,” Hotch darted his eyes up to see Dave walking into the room with a sparkle in his eyes and a smug grin on his face, tucking a piece of paper in his pocket - no doubt the poor doctors phone number. 

After Dave, came two nurses wheeling a hospital bed with a happy looking Spencer Reid sitting up with an elevated and heavily bandaged leg. 

Smiling as the rest of his team followed behind the young mans arrival, Hotch finally allowed himself to relax fully as almost everyone he cared about was in the room. 

The nurses left, leaving the team to get themselves situated, and moments later a knock at the door and a small voice caused Aaron’s heart to clench in his chest. 

“Daddy?” 

His eyes darted to the doorway, seeing his ex-wife holding his 3-year old son in her arms, both of them with wet eyes and cheeks, looking at him with worry. 

“Oh my- _Aaron_!” Haley’s voice hitched, and her free hand flew up to her mouth in shock at his heavily bandaged form. He gave her a look, eyes darting toward their son, shaking his head, and she nodded at the unspoken ' _not, now - not in front of him'_. 

“Daddy?” Jack spoke again, reaching out for him, nodding at Haley, he let her carefully place Jack on the space beside him, Jack immediately reaching with both arms to throw them around Aaron’s neck, and Aaron lifted the arm that wasn’t covered in tubes to hod his soon as tightly as he dared. 

“Hey, buddy, how’re you feeling?” 

“Daddy, bad man hurt you?” The little boy asked softly into Aarons neck, and the father felt his eyes burning and his heart shatter at the scared and worried voice of his son. 

“Yeah, buddy, a bad guy hurt daddy,” Aaron didn’t want to lie to his son, not about anything, something he and Haley had argued over constantly when it came to his job. “But daddy is gonna be fine, bud, promise.” Hotch kissed his son’s hair, squeezing the little boy gently. 

“Did you catch him?” Jack asked, innocently, and Aaron froze, panicking, and he could see realization on Haley’s suddenly pale face. 

Swallowing, Aaron carefully answered his son. 

“Daddy didn’t catch the bad man, Jack-Jack, but the bad man is going away for a long time.”

Jack nodded, his innocent mind taking that as ‘the bad man is in jail.’ rather then ‘the bad man promised to stay away for ten years and daddy can’t promise that he won’t come after him again.’

“Ok, daddy. Guess what I did in school today?” 

Hotch listened as Jack told him about his adventured in pre-school in the last few days, letting himself get lost in the innocent ramblings of his son. 

Jack eventually fell asleep, and Haley carefully picked him up, Aaron watching as she kissed his hair and turned back to Hotch with sharp eyes. 

“He’s not in jail, is he?” 

“No,” he admitted, “But he’s not coming after us any time soon, either. Dave, can you-”

“Of course,” Dave reached into his jacket, grabbing an evidence bag holding Foyet’s note. 

Hotch watched as Haley read it, her already pale face going even paler. 

“Aaron, he-” 

“I know,” he shook his head, looking up at her with tired eyes.

“But there’s nothing we can do.”

Looking desperate, Haley pursed her lips. 

“Then what are we supposed to do, Aaron?” She hissed, careful not to wake Jack. “Just wait until ten years from now, for him to come after us? Ten years of fear, wondering if he’ll break the deal? I-” she looked at Jack, her eyes watering, “ _We_ , can’t live that way, Aaron, nobody can, it’s not healthy!”

Biting his lip, Aaron hesitantly suggested something that went against every instinct he had as a selfish man, and followed his instincts as a father and husband. “I can see if I can pull some strings, put you and Jack in Witsec-”

“For _ten years_??” Haley scoffed, shaking her head, “Aaron that isn’t- I can’t do that to our son, he needs you, he needs *both of us*. He needs stability, and structure, moving around, changing out names and identities for ten years-” Haley took a deep breath. “No. That won’t happen.” Staring at the note for a few seconds, Haley asked him, softly. “Will he honour the deal? Ten years?”

As much as Hotch hated to admit that the Boston Reaper had any sense of Honour... 

“Yes. He will.”

“Why would he do that? Why would a psychopath just _stop_ for ten years?” Haley asked, desperate to make sense of Foyet’s actions. 

“Because, he gets off on knowing that we will all live in fear for ten years, waiting for the other shoe to drop, knowing that in ten years he’ll come after us. That in those ten years, my life will fall apart piece by piece.” Aaron admitted. 

He was being realistic. He knew that while at the moment Haley said that she wanted to stay together, but eventually, he knew, the knowledge that Aaron had a serial killer waiting in the wings to come after him and his friends and family, a set timeline in place, would destroy his marriage. Would destroy his relationships, and affect him on a physiological level. He had know doubt the rest of the team, despite their ardent support at the currant moment, would eventually grow to resent the fact that Hotch’s actions, his inability to realize that Foyet wasn’t just a victim ten years ago, not taking the deal the first time its was offered, not only cost multiple people their lives, but also put a target on all their backs. 

Because Hotch read that note carefully. 

Foyet may have said that he would leave Aaron and his family alone for ten years, but he said _nothing_ about anyone else. 

He would resent himself, too. 

He already did. 

Not for the first time, Hotch found himself missing Gideon; the man would have figured out Foyet from the moment he realized Foyet had disappeared and had the skills to disappear- let alone the fact that Foyet had offered the deal- Gideon would have known from the moment he realized Foyet had only known his ‘girlfriend’ for a month. 

Haley looked dismayed at his words, and while she wasn’t a profiler, She had known Aaron for 20 years, and could tell the directions of his thoughts just by looking at his face, and knowing how he usually thought. 

“Aaron this _isn’t_ your fault.” Haley told him, firmly, giving him a steely look. “I know the last year hasn’t shown it, but I know what your job’s risks are. There’s nobody to blame but this, Foyet person.”

“Haley,” Aaron started, only to stop at Haley’s raised free hand and glare. 

“No, Aaron. I’m not going to hear you blame yourself. What I am going to do is take Jack home, and then make dinner. Then I’m going to help him with his homework, and then put him to bed. In the meantime, you are going to get some rest, follow your Doctor’s orders, and get better so that you can go to our son’s School play in a few weeks. I’m also going to call Dr. Elcombe in the morning and set up an appointment for you. I know you haven’t been going since the divorce, Aaron.” Haley looked to the side, and Aaron noticed with relief that sometime in since Dave had handed Haley the note, his team had left them in privacy. 

“Aaron, you haven’t been taking care of yourself since I left, and that’s - that’s not ok; Jack needs his daddy at his best.”

“Okay. You’re right. Thank you, Haley.” Aaron finally said, after a few moments of tense silence. “Tell him daddy say’s good night, and that I love him lots.”

“Of course.” Haley nodded, eyes soft. “Get some rest, Aaron. Please.”

Aaron nodded, and Haley hesitated, looking like she wanted to step forward, probably to kiss his cheek, or hug him goodbye, like she would when they were married; but she didn’t, giving him a slightly dim smile, and left, only glancing back one. 

Aaron didn’t know whether he felt relieved or disappointed. 

* * *


End file.
